Estrella
In a break between meetings, when Castor reports Anwen is shut up in his office with orders not to disturb him, I creep through the halls of the castle to visit Father. My dress, a re-dyed version of the purple and blue Tess offered is now purple and deep, dark red that reminds me of blood if I think about it for too long, swishes along the stones. It's already growing cold in Dun's Crossing. The sooner we are able to leave this place, the happier I'll be.
I pass a few nobles whose faces I've learned during endless lunches with Nessa, who seems determined to ensure I know every person in the palace with a square foot of land to their name before the week ends. In Dun's Crossing tradition, I wait for them to bow or curtsy first, since I outrank them now. In Dun's Crossing tradition, the moment of hesitation before they move makes me sick to my stomach.
Finally, I arrive at the room Father's body has been moved to. Apparently, that first room was their useless healer's office, and he needed it back for some purpose or other. Now, Father rests in an out-of-the-way guest chamber, watched over constantly by Floyd Winters or one of the two guards he brought with him from Snowcrest.
Today, Floyd himself stands in front of the door. "Luna Estrella. How are you today?"
I don't bother curtsying to the man who's done so much for our family. Our relationship goes far deeper than court formalities by now. "I have been better, but your Nessa is doing her utmost to keep my spirits high, as always."
He grins. "You know, I've never seen her quite like this before."
I raise an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"Is it trite if I say happy?" He shakes his head. "She had a group she used to go around with, but I haven't heard about them in a while, and she never came back from time with them smiling as often as she does time with you."
"She's a good friend," I say honestly. A little gossipy for my taste sometimes, but here, I need that. Nessa's kindness only barely outweighs her value as a never-ending source of information on this world I know nothing about.
"I'm glad you've got someone." Floyd's smile fades. "I can't imagine the weight of the world on your shoulders right now."
Most people here don't have the guts-or the stupidity-to say that to me, but I can see it in the eyes of every person I meet with. In some ways, it's refreshing to hear the words outright.
"Thank you," I murmur. "May I?"
"Oh, of course." Floyd steps aside, clearing the door.
I pull the ribbon holding the key off my wrist where I've been keeping it ever since Floyd handed them out to Mother, Castor, Cristofer, and me, then unlock and open the heavy door.
A blast of cold air rolls out. I step inside and rub my arms only after the door closes behind me. Floyd Winters is the kind man who, by necessity, has been privy to more of the inner workings of my father's assassination than normal, but I still don't wish him to see me any more vulnerable than he must. I run my finger over the thin rime of ice that lays over the empty wardrobe and desk in the room, dallying even though there is no one else to hide from in here. Floyd's magic is powerful. The ice covers every piece of furniture but a chair at the head of the bed. Mother, Castor, and I don't tell one another how often we occupy it. That allows us to pretend we can survive this.
I take a deep breath. A soft cloud exits my lips, and I rub my frozen hands together. Humiliatingly, since my second night with Anwen, I've manifested some slight heat powers, weaker than what Father had by far, and I let them flow over my skin now. The icy room loses its bite.
I'm wasting a sliver of time I've carved out of my day. I stride to the head of the bed and sit next to Father's body.
As always, my first glance hits me like a blow to the chest. He looks like a stranger. His warm, sandy skin, the same color as my own, is ashen. Lattices of ice climb his cheeks and tangle in his hair. Someone closed his eyes, a blessing, but I made the mistake of opening them once to see if they had survived the onslaught. I will never forget the frozen nothingness that looked back at me until the day I die.
At least the brown-gray bloodstain on his clothes no longer sends me spiraling back to our last moment.
I take Father's hand. "I wish I could warm you up."
In some ways, I could. I could brush my fingers over his ruined cheeks and return color to them. But with my weak abilities, I could do no more.
"Would you like that?" I ask anyway. "Then, we could change you into something a little more comfortable."
I wonder if Floyd can hear me through the door. I wonder if he thinks me mad.
I wonder if Mother and Castor talk to Father when they come to visit.
"I'm sorry," I reply as if he agreed. "I am less your daughter than you hoped." My voice cracks, and I swallow against tears. In a burst of frustration, I abandon the magic keeping my hand warm. If I can't do anything for him, I deserve to feel the chill of his icy fingers.
I have never been less afraid for our future, he said in his last moments. If only he could see how wrong he was.
Burning tears drop down onto my cheeks. "I can't fix anything, Father. There's no movement in the investigation, and no one will look at me with anything other than pity. Half of the formal invitations still arrive addressed to Mother. I miss you."
I imagine his frozen brow wrinkling in soft concern. I sound nothing like the daughter he raised. But I still think she died in the moment he did.
"I love you," I whisper.
Just like I did that night. These tiny heat powers I can conjure up on command are nothing compared to the warmth I felt that night. Like lava poured through my veins, hot enough to kill anyone but me in an instant. Like the Goddess herself cupped Her hands around mine and pushed. But then that faded, and nothing I've done since has conjured the glow again. No one has mentioned the incident since it occured. Part of me worries I dreamt it in the fugue of loss.
"Did you feel the burning, Father?" I ask. "Do you know what it was?"
As always, he has no answer for me. This time, though, the room rings with a finality I may be imagining as much as the glow. There is no answer for me here. Perhaps anywhere.
I stand. I need to return to my room before an afternoon meeting. I'm dawdling here, indulging a childish fantasy that Father might return and make everything right again. I would do better to focus on things I can change, like the pace of the investigation. Perhaps avoiding Anwen hasn't been the right choice after all. I am growing tired of his nightly missives rattling off nearly the exact same information.
With my shoulders square and my chin high, I stride to the door and knock for Floyd to release me without even asking Castor over mind-link whether Anwen has moved. The door swings open noiselessly.
"Good visit?" Floyd asks.
I offer him what I hope is an enigmatic smile and don't pause. I need to seize this momentum before it withers.
The walk back to the room disappears in another flurry of curtsies. I unlock my door with the other key around my wrist and step inside.
A letter, sealed with the dark-blue wax of the Solbergs, sits on a shining tray on my receiving table. There's no sign of Tess, or any of the staff that always seems to flit around. I purse my lips, pull a letter opener out of the small drawer in the table, and slit the envelope.
Crown Prince Anwen Solberg of Dun's Crossing, lead investigator into the murder of Alpha King Isai Sollabella, requests the presence of Luna Queen Estrella Sollabella of Sundrop Gem at lunch tomorrow to discuss important discoveries and vital information regarding the investigation. If the Luna Queen is amenable to such a meeting, she should write back indicating what dining room she would prefer.
I bite my lower lip as a smile threatens. I've never heard Anwen talk like this before. It's very plainly his attempt to make a direct request to see me seem like official business, and the level of formality tells me in no uncertain terms that, while he may have some new information, he is at least interested in seeing me again.
My mark throbs. I rub my neck then pick up a quill to pen my response.
Luna Queen Estrella Sollabella of Sundrop Gem would find a luncheon in-
I grimace, trying to remember everything Nessa taught me.
-the solarium amenable at noon tomorrow. She will bring her attendant, Tesandra Solis of Sundrop Gem, to ensure no details of the meeting are forgotten, and she expects Crown Prince Anwen Solberg to bring an attendant as well.
I dot the final period, read my letter over, and smile. He wants a meeting? Fine. But I will be alone with my mate again over my own grave.